


Hell Town, USA

by DeansArie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Gore, Hell Town Ohio, Homophobia, M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Swearing, Wendigo, mentions of Dean Winchester - Freeform, mentions of John Winchester - Freeform, mentions of Sam Winchester - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-01-04 06:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21193214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansArie/pseuds/DeansArie
Summary: The tragic reality of a town riddled with rumors of haunts, chemical spills, serial killers and government experiments sends Naythin to Hell Town Ohio to find two missing hunters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note, this timestamp takes place between Season 1 and Season 2 of Supernatural. (August 2006)
> 
> This is a timestamp for the fic MISSING. It can be read as a stand-alone but you'll want to read Missing to get a full understanding. This timestamp is mentioned briefly in the fic. 
> 
> Hell Town is real. The Wendigo myth is made up thanks to Destination America. 
> 
> Comments are appreciated. This will have multiple chapters.

Wiping his hands with the thin paper napkin, Naythin reached for his cell phone as it danced across the picnic table.

Checking the caller ID, he smirked as he flipped the phone open and put it to his ear. “Hey, Bobby. What’s goin’ on?” Reaching for a french fry, he swirled it around in the pool of ketchup before popping it in his mouth.

“Not much. At least yer eatin’.” Bobby snarked as he leaned back in his desk chair. He could hear Naythin chewing in his ear. Not the most pleasant sound in the world but, for now, he’d let it go and not bust the boy’s chops for his lack of manners.

“I eat,” Naythin responded. Sounding more like a petulant five-year-old than a 26-year-old grown man.

“Sure ya do.” Huffing, Bobby sighed heavily. “Where you at?”

Wiping his mouth, Naythin tossed the napkin on the empty burger wrapper as he sat a bit straighter and glanced around the immediate area. He had a feeling this wasn’t a run of the mill “Hi, how ya doin’?” phone call. “Jus’ South of Canton, Ohio...why?”

Nodding, Bobby opened the file he’d been sent. “Ever hear’a Hell Town?”

_The fuck?_ “Can’ say as I have. Again...why?” Naythin’s heart sank as he started to get to his feet. His mind calling up all kinds of scenarios and images of Dean in trouble and needing him. “Bobby, is Dean in trouble?”

Sighing heavily, the elder hunter tapped the front page of the papers in the file, debating if he should tell Naythin where Dean really was. The slamming of the back door making that decision for him.

“No. No, Dean’s...this has nothin’ to do with him, Naythin. It’s a job. You wan’ it?” Shit. He hated keeping secrets from the boys. Especially when one of them had not only ordered him and made him swear not to tell one anything about the other. Confused yet? It didn’t matter that Bobby didn’t believe a word Sam had said. There was no way Naythin wouldn’t have been at Dean’s side after the crash.

He knew there was a hell of a lot of animosity between Sam and Naythin but this...his attempt to drive a wedge between Dean and Naythin was low, even for Sam.

“Yeah. I’ll take it, Bobby.” His voice was low and huskier than normal as he tried to keep his emotions at bay. Naythin sank back down onto the seat of the picnic table and pulled out a pen from his backpack to get the basic information. “Okay. Can ya overnight the rest to me? I’ll give ya the address to the motel I’m stayin’ at.”

After giving Bobby the address, Naythin ended the call. Cleaning up the remnants of his meal, he threw it away and walked back to the parking lot where he’d left his truck.

Naythin gave up on trying to get any sleep that night. He kept having nightmares about Dean being hurt and not being able to find him. Waking up in a cold sweat yelling Dean’s name was enough to convince Naythin sleep was overrated. He spent the rest of the night watching B-rated monster movies, eating pizza and drinking beer.

With all the horrors he’d seen in his short life. One would think watching scary movies of any kind would be the last thing he’d watch. Especially after the doozy of a nightmare he’d had.

THEM was a good movie, for its time. 1954 didn’t have green screen or CGI but they did a pretty good job with what they had. Ants that big wouldn’t be able to move but, whatever. There were times, like now, when Naythin forgot Dean wasn’t with him.

“You could use that grenade launcher ya got stashed in the trunk’a the Impala on these suckers!” He smiled wide as he looked toward the bathroom expecting Dean to poke his head out. When nothing happened, Naythin’s smile fell. He sighed sadly as he stared at the open door to the bathroom. “Dammit.”

Tossing the pizza crust back in the box, Naythin leaned back against the headboard. The movie had lost its appeal. The pizza tasted like the cardboard box it had been delivered in and the beer wasn't cutting it.

He needed something stronger.

Hell, who was he kidding. He needed Dean.

Naythin knew it was ridiculous and...childish. He was a grown-ass man for fuck’s sake. He shouldn’t be pinning for someone like a lovesick kid. Except that was exactly what he was doing. He knew Dean was pissed at him. It wasn’t his fault he listened to that jackass brother of his. Naythin hadn’t done anything wrong.

Scrubbing the palms of his hands over his face, he groaned loudly. “Enough. Stop it! You got a job to do. Do it! You can figure out the shit with Dean afterward.”

Checking his watch, Naythin swung his legs over the side of the bed and got to his feet. He’d take a shower, clean up the mess from his one man pity party and get some coffee. The booze would have to wait. He needed to have a clear head for this. The info Bobby was sending wouldn’t get there until the next afternoon. He had time to do some research before heading out the day after.

[ ](https://imgur.com/tadqp4L)

“Bobby. You have got to be kidding me.” Naytihn had been pouring over the information Bobby had sent him for the past three hours before finally calling the elder hunter.

The documents and photos that were scattered across the small table in Naythin’s hotel room were a conspiracy theorists wet dream. Everything from aliens to government experiments gone wrong to…”Oh, come on! Wendigo’s? They’re not this far south, Bobby. Everyone knows that. Every hunter learns that in kindergarten.” Hunter kindergarten but still...the point remained the same.

“Not kiddin’, kid.” Bobby drawled on the other end of the call.

Shaking his head, he reached for the bottle of Coke. Taking a long pull, Naythin set the bottle back on the table and recapped it. “They sure as hell don’t…” Squinting, Naythin stared at the words in the report before repeating them. “Suck the bones from a human body.” Yeah, it still sounded wacked even after saying them out loud.

Nodding, Bobby leaned forward and stared at the same document he knew Naythin was reading from. “That’s true..for the ones we’ve known about. These could be different. Or, it could be a whole ‘nother critter altogether. A couple’a hunters went to check it out and disappeared. Yer the closest to the area.”

He hated it but, Bobby had a point. There was so much shit out there they didn’t know about. These...mutant Wendigos, or whatever the hell it was, could be one of them. When he heard about the missing hunters, Naythin’s head dropped forward and he bit back a groan. “Okay, I’ll go but uh, you think someone caught a Wendigo up north, experimented on it an’ it got loose?” On a good day, Wendigo’s were a pain in the ass and dangerous as fuck but you piss one off and you’re in for a world of hurt.

“I dunno. Maybe. Listen, kid. If you think this’s too much for ya to handle on yer own, I can have someone else handle it.”

“What? No! No, I got this. I can do it. I’ll head out at first light after goin’ over all this. I’ll let ya know where I’m stayin’ when I get there.” Gripping the phone tight, Naythin sat back in the cheap wooden chair. The wood groaned in protest as he rocked back on two legs before letting the chair fall forward with a dull thump.

“Bobby…”

“No, kid. I haven’t heard from him.”

Nodding, Naythin sighed. “Even if ya did, you wouldn’t fuckin’ tell me Bobby an’ that’s bullshit. I didn’t do anythin’ wrong. I dunno why Dean won’ talk to me an’ no one’ll tell me anythin’ short of he’s still breathin’.” Naythin was on his feet yelling as he paced the small room.

“M’not gettin’ in the middle’a you two. Let me know when you get settled.” Ending the call, Bobby tossed the phone onto his desktop. He was already in the middle and Bobby hated every minute of it.

Without looking up, he grit his teeth. “M’not doin’ this forever ya know! You two need to get your shit figured out an’ fast! Yer breakin’ that boy’s heart!” The slamming of the kitchen door was the only response. This time though, it wasn’t as loud as it had been the last time. Maybe...just maybe, he was getting through to Dean. God, he hoped so.

[ ](https://imgur.com/tadqp4L)

After Bobby hung up on him, the hotel room became too confining. Snatching his keys off the table and storming out of his room, he spent the rest of the day at the local library doing research on Hell Town, Ohio. Naythin told the librarian he was doing a college paper on the history of the place. The elderly woman was more than happy to get him all the information they had on the subject. The table was crowded with books of all shapes and sizes. Some dating back to the late 1800s and old newspaper archives; some of which he had to look up on the microfiche machine. He hated those stupid things.

He wasn't a fan of research by any means but Naythin couldn't help losing all track of time as he got lost in the information. A few of the so-called theories had him chuckling to himself and quickly dismissing. Once, he laughed loudly and was immediately shushed by the librarian. Ducking his head, he waved a silent apology and went back to work.

Before he realized it, the sun had set and the same librarian was clearing her throat and scaring the ever-loving shit out of him. Jumping to his feet, his hand going to the Glock 9 mm hidden in the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back. Only after hearing the startled gasp and seeing the woman's wide-eyed scared expression complete with fluttering hand at the base of her throat, did he slowly lower his hand and not shoot her in the face.

"Sorry. I didn't hear you walk up." He apologized quietly, smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

After gathering her wits, the woman spoke softly. "That's quite alright, young man but we are closing in fifteen minutes and I need to start putting these away." Her hand shook slightly as she indicated the mountain of books and papers spread out across the table.

"Right. Sorry. I'll just finish with this article and be out of your hair." Again, he flashed a quick smile and reached for the chair with the intention of returning to the newspaper article about several soldiers that had died mysteriously.

The librarian gathered a large stack in her frail arms and carried them away. Sighing heavily, he rolled his eyes internally. The article forgotten as Naythin pushed the chair in as quietly as a wooden chair leg could be scraping against the tile floor. "Ma'am...let me help you with that." It was the least he could do after scaring the Hell out of the old bat.

Turning to look back at him, the woman smiled brightly. "Well now. Aren't you a gentleman. Thank you, young man."

Forty-five minutes later, Naythin was heading back to the hotel. He dropped off his research, checked the salt lines and wards, locked the door and walked across the street to grab something to eat at the local bar and grille. Finding a table in the back corner where he could see the entire room, he ordered a beer, burger, and fries.

Taking his phone out, he checked it for missed calls or messages since he had to put the ting on silent while he’d been in the library. His shoulders slumped as he let out a soft sigh of disappointment.

“You gonna drown yer sorrows in this?” A soft, feminine voice asked.

Naythin’s head snapped up, a fake-as-the-day-is-long smile split his face as he met the waitresses smiling gaze. “Nah. No sorrows to drown.” Picking up the mug of beer she’d set in front of him, Naythin raised it to his lips and took a long pull before setting it bacon on the table.

“Sure. If you say so. I've been doin’ this job long enough to recognize when someone is havin’ relationship trouble.”

Naythin shook his head. “Yeah, well. Nothing to drown. Like I said.” No way in hell was he going to talk about his and Dean’s relationship.

His smile fell as he stared up at the woman. In an instant, his features hardened. His own version of a hunter’s mask fell into place. He hoped she got the message and he didn’t have to get rude.

Clearing her throat and taking a step back, Sue glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen. “I’ll jus’ go...check on yer food.”

Quickly turning, she speed walked to the swinging kitchen door. “That burger for table three done?”

The cook looked up from the basket of fries he was dumping into the warming bin. His forehead creased with concern. Glancing at the door, he wiped his hands on the already grease-stained apron. “He givin’ you any trouble?”

“Hmm...no. No, he’s not. Just creepy.”

Darren’s expression darkened. “Did he touch you?”

Shaking her head, Nicky smiled. “Calm down, big guy.” Patting Darren’s arm, Nicky reassured him. “He just got pissy when I tried to make small talk. Ya know, work for a bigger tip and all.”

“Uh huh.” Darren grumped.

“Do not do anything to his food!” Nicky scolded. “Remember the last time? You nearly got this place shut down by adding your...special sauce, to a customer’s burger. Said customer was the health inspector’s nephew!”

Huffing, Darren rolled his eyes. “Fine! Fine, I won’t spice up his food. Tell Romeo it’ll be out in five.”

Naythin ate in relative peace and quiet. After the waitress brought his food, the cook came out and planted himself at the bar shooting Naythin dirty looks. Naythin gave a few of his own. Even using Dean’s patented _I hope something eats you_ look complete with rolling jaw muscle.

He smirked as the cook squirmed under his glare. The smirk morphed into a full-blown smile and low chuckle as he watched the cook get up and quickly disappear back into the kitchen.

Shaking his head, Naythin returned to his meal. Popping the last of his fries in his mouth, he wiped his hands and mouth on his napkin. Getting to his feet, he downed the last of his beer. Taking out his wallet, he dropped enough cash on the table to cover his tab as well as a decent tip even with the lousy service.

Heading for the door, he could feel eyes boring into the back of his skull. He lengthened his strides without looking like he was hurrying. In that moment, Naythin decided it would be a good idea to get the hell out of dodge now rather than wait until morning.

As he reached the door, Naythin took inventory of the weapons he had on him. Silver knife in his right book; check. Butterfly knife in his left-front jeans pocket; check. Glock at the small of his back; check. Folding knife in his right back jeans pocket; check.

Instead of going straight to his hotel room, he turned right as soon as he cleared the door. Listening carefully for the door to close, he huffed softly when it took a while to do so. When the sounds of additional footsteps on the gravel reached him, he knew he’d made the right decision. No need for the locals to find out what or who he was.

Hanging a right at the end of the building, he angled out into the large gravel lot making sure he could see his opponents and had room to fight. Stealing his features, he took in a deep calming breath just like Dean had taught him right before a fight. Turning to face his attackers, Naythin smirked at the three men standing before him. He recognized one as the cook, one was the bartender and the other...he had no idea who he was. Most likely the one that would be calling the ambulance. Lifting his hand, he pointed to the pissed off cook. “Great burger, man. Best I’ve had in a while. Looking at the bartender, he shrugged one shoulder dismissively. “Hey man. The beer was a little flat. You might wanna check yer set up.” Yeah, that went over well...NOT. Naythin couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Listen asshole, we don’ like it when people come here an’ disrespect our friends.” Third wheel chimed in before spitting out a wad of chewing tobacco. _Gross_

Sighing, Naythin lowered his hand and widened his stance slightly. “Listen fella. I’m outta here, okay? Ya won’ see me again and my apologies to your lady friend.”

Huffing, the bartender smirked. “Oh, yer leaving town alright. in a pine box.”

Chuckling darkly, Naythin shook his head. “Yeah, that’s not happening.” Thankfully, all his shit in the hotel room was packed. He just had to grab his toiletry bag from the bathroom, shove it in his duffle bag and he was out the door.

As the bartender charged him, Naythin pulled his Glock and leveled it with the business end aimed it at the man’s forehead. To hide the satisfied smirk as the man stopped so suddenly, he slipped on the gravel and landed on his ass, Naythin tilted his head slightly to one side and tsked several times and pouted better than any toddler.

“Nuh uh. Don’t do it. I said I was leavin’. You boys don’t want to be arrested for assaulting a Federal Marshall now do ya?” He warned the other two men without taking his eyes off the bartender.

He could see the uncertainty flash across their faces as they glanced at each other. Third wheel took a step back and Naythin knew he had them. _Gotcha!_

“You don’ look like no fed.”

Naythin scoffed at the bartender as he slowly picked himself up off the ground. “I’m undercover. Now...this is how this is gonna go down. I’m gonna walk across the street to my hotel room, grab my stuff and drive away. You three are going to wait right here until I pull away. If either of you get any ideas on coming after me...I’ll shoot you.” He flashed a smile wide enough to make the Cheshire Cat jealous.

“I still say yer no fed.” Third wheel grumped from where he hid behind the cook.

Sighing, Naythin reached slowly into the inside pocket of his jacket. Counted to the third business card in his pocket, he pulled it out and flicked it toward the group. Pointing to the card as it fluttered to the ground he nodded curtly. “Feel free to call my supervisor.” His supervisor just happened to be one Bobby Singer.

Grabbing third wheel, the cook shoved him toward the card. “You do it since you got such a big mouth.”

Not expecting the sudden grab and shove, third wheel landed on his knees with a loud grunt. Quickly snatching up the card, he scrambled to his fee and returned to his place just behind the cook.

Bobby tossed the damp dishrag on the counter when the Federal Marshall line started to ring. “Dammit.”

Crossing the kitchen, he yanked the receiver off the wall. “Babcock!”

“Uh...yeah. I’m checkin’ to make sure this guy here is a Marshall.”

Huffing, Bobby rolled his eyes. “What’s his name?”

“Right. Yeah, the uh, the card says Marshal R. Plant.”

Nodding, Bobby leaned against the wall. “Yeah, he’s one’a mine. If you’ve blown his cover, I’ll drop all nine levels of Hell on your head! You so much as fart in public and yer goin’ to jail!”

Nodding, third wheel gulped audibly. “Yes, sir. No, sir. I mean yes, sir. I’m sorry to bother you, sir.”

Quickly ending the call, third wheel shoved his phone in his pocket. “My apologies sir. Marshal...sir.” He mumbled before turning and speed walking back towards the bar. “He’s legit!” He shot back over his shoulder when the others weren’t following him.

The cook and bartender glanced at each other before slowly backing away. They didn't turn their backs to Naythin until they neared the corner of the building.

Exhaling loudly, Naythin lowered his handgun to shi side. He didn’t put the safety on in case one of the idiots tried anything stupid. Neither of them looked to be very bright. That’s what worried him the most. It was always the dumb ones that thought they were faster and stronger than him. He really hated the _Hold my beer_ mentality.

Staying to the center of the field, he made his way to the street keeping one eye on the door to eh bar. If anyone came out shooting he was a sitting duck, unfortunately. Shit.

Thankfully, no one bothered him as he crossed the street. Pulling out the key to his room, he quickly unlocked it and slipped inside. Locking the door, he hurried to the bathroom to grab his toiletry bag. As he exited the bathroom, his phone started to go off in his pocket.

“Jesus H...now what?” Pulling out his phone, he tucked it between his ear and shoulder. “Yeah!”

“Hello to you too.” Bobby snarked.

“I don’ have time, Bobby.”

Sitting up, Bobby had to force himself to stay seated. “You alright, boy?”

Shoving the toiletry bag in his duffle, Naythin gave the room a quick going over to make sure he left no trace behind. “M’fine. Thanks for the bail out. I’m getting outta town now.”

Snapping his jaws closed, the elder hunter sighed with relief. “Good. Yer welcome an’ be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Shouldering the straps to his duffle bag, Naythin headed for the door. Leaving the key on the small table, he ended the call with Bobby and shoved the phone in his pocket as he left the room.

Tossing his bag in the cab of his truck, Naythin started the engine, put it drive and got the hell out of town. He didn’t relax until much later when he was out of the county and headed North to Hell Town.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tragic reality of a town riddled with rumors of haunts, chemical spills, serial killers and government experiments sends Naythin to Hell Town Ohio to find two missing hunters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, this timestamp takes place between Season 1 and Season 2 of Supernatural.
> 
> This is a timestamp for the fic MISSING. It can be read as a stand-alone but you'll want to read Missing to get a full understanding. This timestamp is mentioned briefly in the fic.
> 
> Hell Town is real. The Wendigo myth is made up thanks to Destination America.
> 
> Comments are appreciated. This will have multiple chapters.

“No, Bobby. M'not gettin' a hotel. Not yet, anyway." Naythin's legs swung slowly back and forth as he sat on the tailgate of his truck. He'd picked an out of the way campground to stay at. it was close but not too close to Hell Town.

"Keep yer head down an' yer wits about ya." The elder hunter advised as he closed the oven door after checking on his cornbread. A pot of chili was simmering on the stove.

"Bobby, I got this. I'm not a kid." Even as a kid, Naythin had been on some pretty hair raising hunts. Ones that were supposed to be easy salt an' burns that turned out to be a lot worse in the long run. Shaking his head, he ended the call before Bobby started lecturing him. He'd been the one to hand out the hunt, after all.

Taking a beer from the cooler, he twisted the cap off and tossed it back in the cooler. Taking a long pull, he made his way to the camp chair that he'd set up in front of the fire. It was a little warm for a fire but, Naythin liked it and it helped keep the Pterodactyl sized mosquitoes away. Tossing another small log onto the fire, he chuckled lightly. Dean hated camping. He'd bitch, moan, groan and complain the whole time about how much he hated it but, Dean made the best s'mores Naythin had ever had.

Clearing his throat, he gave his head a quick shake. "Stop. Pining over him isn' going to fix anything."

"You always talk to yerself?"

Naythin jumped to his feet, his hand going to the Glock at the small of his back. He was just starting to pull it free when he recognized the hunter standing next to his truck. "Jesus, Horacio. I could'a shot you."

Huffing, Horacio Albert St. Nichols helped himself to a beer from Naythin's cooler. "But you didn't." He tipped the now uncapped top of the bottle in Naythin's direction before lifting the bottle to his mouth. After drinking half the contents, he smacked his lips. "Damn, that hit the spot."

Rolling his eyes, Naythin walked over and slammed the cooler lid closed. "No freebies, asshole."

Holding his hands up in mock defense, Horacio sat on the tailgate of Naythin's truck. "What you doin' out here, Naythin?"

Straight to the point.

"Nothin'." Shaking his head, Naythin made his way back to his camp chair and sat back down. Lifting his own beer bottle to his lips, he emptied the contents in one long pull.

"Uh huh. Yer not gonna kick my ass again, are ya? My ribs are finally healed." Horacio gave Naythin a dark look before smiling.

"You deserved it. You lied to me...more than once and you damn near got me killed." Normally, Naythin was a pretty forgiving person. What Horacio did to him was unforgivable.

Huffing, Horacio rolled his eyes. "Hey man, I was jus' doing what I was told. When Dean Winchester tells you to keep yer trap shut...you do it. The only way I could get you gone was to send you on that wild goose chase." Shrugging dismissively, he drained the last of his beer.

Naythin scoffed. "Wild goose chase. Right. More like a large nest'a vamps, you ass. I still have the scars!" Lifting his shirt to expose his left side, Naythin pointed to the long jagged, still healing slash that ran the length of his rib cage.

Horacio had the good sense to look embarrassed and not stare at the wound. "Look man, I didn't know, okay? I wouldn't have sent you there like that. I'm not suicidal. Jus' cuz you an' Winchester are on the outs..." That was all he got out before he found himself slammed back against the bed of Naythin's truck.

Growling, he had a tight grip on the man's shirt. "We are _not_ on the outs. Understand?" When Horacio failed to respond, Naythin shoved him hard. The loud thud of the back of the man's head bouncing off the steel bed of the truck was very satisfying. "Answer!"

"Alright! Alright, I got it. Yer not. Everything is just hunky dory. Yer here an' he's..." Before he could let it slip, Horacio clamped his jaws shut. It didn't help because Naythin was already drawing his fist back. _Shit. Here we go again._

Naythin didn’t realize he’d been punching Horacio until he felt hands grabbing his arms and strange male voices were yelling for him to stop. He didn’t allow himself to be pulled away until he heard someone say they were going to call the cops if he didn’t back off. That got his attention. 

Spitting out a mouthful of blood, he rat the tip of his tongue over the split area of his lip where Horacio landed a lucky punch. “Get out of here! Get out of my sight!” He growled as he lunged at the man. 

“HEY!” The manager of the campground was suddenly in Naythin’s face. “You...calm the fuck down! Right now!” 

Turning to Horacio, he pointed toward the exit. “And you...get the hell out of my campground!” 

Breathing heavily, Horacio wiped the blood from his mouth and nose. His left eye was already swollen shut. “Yer nuts! Certifiable! No wonder he dumped yer sorry ass!” Even Horacio knew better than to say a hunter’s real name. Especially a Winchester. You never knew who was within earshot. “Yer _EX_ boyfriend’s not aroun’ to watch yer back anymore!” 

“Screw you! I don’ need ‘im to watch my back. You better watch yer own!” Word spread fast in the hunter world. He knew the fight with Horacio wouldn’t be enough for Dean to call. He’d been wrong before but, the reason for the fight, that might get Dean’s attention. Maybe. Naythin wasn’t going to hold his breath but a guy could still hope. 

A sharp jab to his chest pulled Naythin’s attention from Horacio and back to the more than a little pissed off manager. Naythin knew he’d screwed up. He knew better than to draw undue attention to himself. The worst part was that he could already hear his father’s voice in his head railing at him for making such a rookie mistake.

“One more outburst like that and yer outta here! Got me?” The manager glared hard at Naythin. Stepping in close until the two men were chest to chest. Naythin easily outweighed the guy by 50 pounds and had a few inches on him. The fucker wasn’t backing down and neither would Naythin.

“Yes, sir. I get it. There won’ be anymore trouble.” Naythin had the sense to at least look apologetic. He didn’t move until the manager backed off and walked away grumbling under his breath about being too old to be dealing with idiot kids.

Naythin didn’t move until the manager was well out of sight before crouching and picking up his handgun that he’d tossed under the truck when Horacio opened his big mouth. He knew for sure there would have been a whole hell of a lot more trouble if anyone had seen him with it. 

Tucking the handgun back into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back and making sure to cover it with his t-shirt and overshirt, Naythin picked up his camp chair, moved it closer to the tailgate of his truck and sank into it with a weary sigh. Stretching his legs out toward the fire, he watched the dancing flames. 

He had planned on taking it easy that night before getting an early start in the morning. Now? Sleep was not going to come easy, if at all. With his temper and adrenaline lowering to a simmer, Naythin’s right hand started to throb. Looking down at the split and bloody knuckles, he gave his fingers an experimental flex.

He was sure that nothing was broken. Thankfully, his fingers moved easily with no grinding of bone against bone. Leaning to the side, he flipped open the cooler and plunged his hand into the icy cold water. “Mother! Fucker!” He growled through gritted teeth.

He kept his hand in the ice water until the cold became too much to bear. Pulling his hand free, he flexed his fingers experimentally. Hissing softly as the abused and torn skin around his knuckles protested. 

Naythin couldn’t complain, too much. It was his own fault. He should have made the bastard leave the second Horacio showed up. Or shot him. The second option had Naythin chuckling to himself. Icing his hand was going to be his penance for the one sided fight. It was going to suck on so many levels. 

Before any stiffness or more than was already setting in, Naythin got to his feet and went to the drivers side door of his truck. Pulling the door open, he dug around in the first aid kit for his bottle of Ibuprofen. Shaking out five of the small, brown pills, he closed the bottle tossed it back in the kit and slammed the truck door. Going back to his seat, he dropped onto it and fished a can of Coke from the cooker. Using his good hand, he popped the top and quickly washed down the pills. Hopefully, the Ibuprofen would kick in fast.

After staring into the flames and now glowing embers of the campfire for over an hour and icing his hand until the water in the cooler was too warm to do any good. His mind blissfully blank, Naythin got to his feet. He cleaned up the campsite, dumped the water from the cooler to put out the fire and packed as much of his gear as he needed for the night and stowing it in the cab of his truck, he climbed into his tent, kicked off his Chucks and zipped the flaps shut. 

With an exaggerated groan, he crawled into his sleeping bag and tucked his handgun under his sleeping bag so no one would see it if he moved around too much during the night. The ground under the tent was salted, warded with hex bags buried at all four corners. The same with his truck. No _thing_ was going to get the drop on him during the night when, as Dean always put it, the freaks came out.

[ ](https://imgur.com/tadqp4L)

Returning the handle to the pump, Naythin put the gas cap back in place and slapped the door closed. Yawning wide enough to have both sides of his jaw pop, he itched at the back of his neck as he shuffled his way into the small convenience store at the gas station to pay for his gas and hopefully get a cup of coffee.

“Rough night?” The attendant asked. She looked barely older than 18. Naythin couldn’t help but notice the way she bit her bottom lip and staring after him as he made a beeline for the coffee machine. 

“You could say that. Gettin’ too old to be sleepin’ on the ground.” He chuckled softly as he filled the largest to go cup they had with black coffee.

“You stayin’ out at the campground?” She asked hopefully.

Shaking his head, he bit back the groan as the first sip of hot coffee slid down his throat. “Not anymore.” He smiled at the look of disappointment on the girl’s face. 

At 27, Naythin was a good looking guy. Though, he wasn’t conceited about it. 

Some would say he was...pretty. God, he hated that word. Over the past year or so, he’d started to bulk up and outgrow the pretty boy phase he’d been stuck in for the past 15 years. Much to his chagrin, it had come in handy a few times when he’d been low on cash. A few modeling jobs, a stint as an exotic dancer; which he was horrible at, and, one that he would never tell Dean about, a few months as an escort. **No sex involved**. That had been his one condition when a buddy of his had gave him the information for the upscale escort service while he’d been on a case in Vegas. He’d made enough money in three months to pay off the back taxes on his parent’s farm to keep it off the auction block and pad his savings account. 

“Shame. I could’a kept ya warm.” The girl bit her lip again and leaned forward. The low cut V-neck t-shirt she wore as well as the push up bra accentuated her ample breasts.

Chuckling, Naythin shook his head. “Sorry. You’ve got all the wrong...parts that trip my trigger, darlin’. Have a good one.” Turning to leave the store, Naythin glanced back quickly as he opened the door.

The look on the girls face; one of both shock mixed with all kinds of what the fuck had Naythin laughing loudly. Walking to his truck, he made sure the tarp covering his gear was secure before opening the driver’s side door and climbing in behind the wheel. He needed to find another place to camp for the night before setting off on foot into Hell Town to do some preliminary scouting.

Deciding to keep the ruse about being a college student doing research on the legend and mystery of Hell Town seemed like the best course of action. That way, if he got busted by any of the dumb ass local cops, it would keep him out of jail. He had to make sure to remember the fake Ohio State University student ID he’d made as well as the Wisconsin driver’s license that went along with it. Who was going to arrest some good ole boy who’d been raised on a dairy farm in Wisconsin? He could put on the hay seed act with the best of them. Don’t bother with the voting, just hand him the Emmy. 

After another hour of driving Naythin found the abandoned farm house just outside the boundary of the state park. He hid his truck in the barn and covered it with the cover that was the same color as the long forgotten bales of straw stacked next to it. If someone peeked through the boards, they wouldn’t be able to make out the truck too easily. Naythin even made sure to stack a few bales in front of the tires so the black wouldn’t stick out.

The roof of the barn was solid. There was an old cattle stanchion near the straw bales where he could set up camp. No fire unfortunately. The slightest spark would set the whole place ablaze in a matter of seconds. Changing into all black clothes and loading a backpack with water, some food and anything else he thought he’d need, Naythin had nothing to do but wait until the sun went down and it was good and dark. Sitting on one of the straw bales, he turned on the battery operated lantern as he chewed on a protein bar. Taking out the file, he went over some of the information Bobby had sent him.

Naythin lost all track of time. He went from sitting on the straw bale to lowering himself to the ground and stretching his legs out in front of him. Papers were scattered on the straw covered floor in the half circle of light cast by the lantern.

His left hip aching was the only thing that had pulled Naythin from his research. Leaning to the right, he rubbed his hip and glanced around. “Shit. Goddammit.” It was well after dark. Looking at his watch, he swore a blue streak as he climbed to his feet, snatched his backpack from the straw bale he’d been leaning on and gathered the papers. After turning off the lantern and stowing it back in the bed of his truck, Naythin shoved the papers back in the file and put it in his pack.

Sighing heavily, he hurried to the small door at the back of the barn. Slowly opening it after having to move some rusted equipment, he waited a few minutes to make sure no one was around. Sneaking out the door, he closed it and slowly crept through the overgrown pasture. Keeping as low as possible. Thankfully, the clouds covered the moon making it easier for him to get through the open field.

[ ](https://imgur.com/tadqp4L)

“I’m telling you, it’s all a bunch of bullshit.” Kelly’s boyfriend Alex reassured her for the hundredth time as he drove away from the gas station.

Huffing, Kelly crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing the mounds to the point of nearly spilling out of her bra and t-shirt. She couldn’t understand how she’d let Alex talk her into driving through Hell Town...in the dark...on a moonless night. He wasn’t bad looking and the guy was an absolute monster in the sack. Not to mention he was hung like a Clydesdale.

Moaning softly, Alex licked his lips as he stared at his girlfriends...assets. “Ya know you make me crazy when you do that, right?”

Kelly looked over at Alex and down at her breasts. Smiling, she licked her lips slowly and squeezed her arms together making her breasts stand out even more. “You like what you see?”

“Uh huh.” 

“You wanna get yer hands an’ mouth on these beauties?” She asked, lowering her voice into a sultry whisper and biting her bottom lip.

“Hell yeah.” Alex was practically drooling.

“Then get your eyes back on the fucking road before you kill us both!” Kelly yelled and pointed to the windshield. 

“Huh?” Alex stammered as he followed where Kelly was pointing. “SHIT!” The deer standing in the middle of the road stomped one hoof as it stared transfixed by the headlights of Alex’s car, forced Alex to over correct so he didn’t hit the deer. The car swerved to the right, tires squealing on the pavement. “Hold on!” The more he tried to get the car straightened out, the more Alex lost control of the damn thing.

Kelly screamed and covered her eyes as the Alex lost control of the car and it careened into the ditch, up over the other side and down another embankment. Saplings broke off as the car seemed to speed up and narrowly missing the stone pillar marking the boundary. The engraved “W” hidden by an overgrown ivy plant. Branches hit the windows, a large one shattered the windshield. The glass spider webbing before another larger branch pierced what was left of the windshield and impaled Alex through the chest.

Blood gushed up his throat, coating the inside of his mouth and pouring from between his lips. Alex was dead before the car finally came to a sudden stop. The front end hitting a large oak tree creating a “V” shaped dent in the bumper and shoving the engine block against the firewall. Steam hissed loudly from under the crumpled hood as coolant leaked onto the hot engine. 

Kelly wasn’t sure how long she’d been unconscious. She didn’t remember being knocked out. One minute the car as going into the ditch and the next she was hunched forward, her forehead resting against the dashboard.

Groaning softly, she slowly sat back in her seat. Lifting her hand to her forehead, she hissed loudly from the pain. She had a goose egg sized bump in the middle of her forehead. Not to mention the blood that was covering said bump. “Alex.” She groaned softly.

“I’m gonna kill you.” Reaching for Alex’s arm, she gave it a squeeze. “Alex, wake up.” 

Nothing.

“Damn it, Alex, wake UP!” Kelly yelled, giving Alex’s limp arm another hard shake as she turned to look at her boyfriend.

A scream erupted from between her lips at the sight of Alex with the branch protruding from the middle of his chest. His head lolled to the side in her direction, sightless eyes staring at her with thick, cooling blood dribbling from the corner of his slack lips had the birds that roosted in the trees taking flight in alarm.

The scream also attracted the creature that dwelled in Hell Town. Lifting it’s large, misshapen head, it sniffed the air. The smell of blood; rich and pungent in the air, had its nostrils flaring wide. Saliva fell from the corner of its lips in long strands. Throwing it’s head back, it let out a shriek that quieted every animal within hearing distance and had them scurrying for cover.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tragic reality of a town riddled with rumors of haunts, chemical spills, serial killers and government experiments sends Naythin to Hell Town Ohio to find two missing hunters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, this fic takes place between Season 1 and Season 2 of Supernatural. 
> 
> This is a timestamp for the fic MISSING. It can be read as a stand-alone but you'll want to read Missing to get a full understanding. This timestamp is mentioned briefly in the fic.
> 
> Hell Town is real. The Wendigo myth is made up thanks to Destination America.
> 
> Comments are appreciated. This will have multiple chapters.

“The only reason yer still alive is because Dean doesn’t know what you did to Naythin. Sendin’ him to that vamp nest in Michigan. What were you thinking!?!” Bobby kept his voice as low as possible. He didn’t want Dean to overhear the conversation. If he did, Bobby was afraid of what Dean would do to Horacio. 

“Hey, I was doin’ what Dean told me to do! Not tell Naythin nothin’ about where he was or anything, Bobby. I didn’t know about the nest, alright? I never would’a sent Naythin there. Geez, I’m not that big of an asshole!” Horacio defended himself as he paced around his car. 

Checking the back door, Bobby reached up and threw the deadbolt and quickly walked back to his desk. At least that would give him some warning if either Sam or Dean tried to get in the house. “The hell are you doin’ anywhere near Naythin anyway? You stay away from him, Horacio.” Bobby warned as he dropped into his desk chair and pushed his ball cap off his forehead. 

Huffing, Horacio rolled his eyes. “He made it plenty clear he didn’t want me around.” He wasn’t stupid. Horacio wasn’t going to tell Bobby about the fight. Not that he planned on leaving the area. He’d watched Naythin leave the campground that morning and followed him to the gas station. Once Naythin left, Horacio waited for K.J. to meet up with him. 

"I mean it, Horacio. You stay the Hell away from Naythin. If Dean gets wind'a what happened, you won't live long enough to plan a funeral." Ending the call, Bobby tossed his phone on his desk. "Balls!"

He was half tempted to _not_ wait , but he owed K.J. a lot so he put up with the man’s inability to be anywhere on time. Ever. 

“It’s about time.” Horacio slid off the trunk of his car as K.J. exited his truck. 

“Shut it! I had a flat.” Looking Horacio up and down, he pointed to his face. “Who’d you piss off again?” 

Huffing, Horacio pulled his phone out and waved it in the air. “You couldn’t’ve called? And that’s...none of yer business.” Nope. He wasn’t going to say Naythin Emerson beat his ass; again. 

Taken aback, K.J. gawked at the man. “What are ya...my wife?” Lifting his hand, he flipped his on again off again hunting partner the bird. 

Scoffing loudly, Horacio rolled his eyes. “No one would marry your ass.” 

“Whatever.” Shaking his head, K.J. walked over to Horacio. “What am I doin’ here, H?”

Smiling wide, Horacio waggled his eyebrows. “Wanna hunt a Wendigo _family_?” 

“Yer drunk. No such thing. I’m outta here.” Turning, K.J. headed back to his truck. Horacio had come up with some pretty outlandish hunts before but this...this was by far the absolute worst and far fetched. Sure, there was some pretty screwed up monsters out there but any hunter worth his salt, no pun intended, will tell you that Wendigo’s do _not_ breed.

“Wait! I have proof!” Horacio hurried to the passenger side door, reached through the open window and dug around in his backpack. He let out a small yell when he found the file he was looking for. Waving the manila folder in the air, he jogged over to where K.J. waited impatiently. 

Flipping open the file, he pulled out a grainy photo. “This.” Tapping the photo, he looked up at K.J. 

“What am I looking at?” K.J. groused. All he could see were trees, underbrush, a large rock...maybe? There were two figures, a really blurry image near the rock. “This could be anything.” 

Pulling out another photo, Horacio shoved it on top of the previous photo. “Look. Two sets of footprints. One smaller than the other. The smaller tracks run parallel to the larger one. The tracks match those found at previous Wendigo hunts.”  
Now, he had K.J. 's attention. 

Examining the tracks as well as the other photos and notes in the file, he moved to the trunk of H’s car and spread everything out so he could get a better look. After a few minutes, he stood to his full height and scratched at the back of his neck. “I dunno, man.” He was more than a little reluctant to agree to the craziness Horacio was tossing at him. 

“Seriously?” Horacio snatched the photo of the track and waved it in his partner’s face. “Look at these! You can’t deny they’re identical to the others.” 

Sighing, K.J. nodded. Yeah, okay. The larger set matches but not the smaller set. Not...really.” The idea that Wendigos had evolved and could actually breed scared the shit out of him. “Shit.” 

“Look. I’m not happy about this.” 

“Really? You look like a kid on Christmas morning, man.” K.J. quipped. 

“Shut up. If they’re breeding, we need to take ‘em out. Now. Aside from that...we’d be heroes...legends in the hunter world.” Take that Dean fucking Winchester. 

Shaking his head, K.J. took a step back. “I won’t kill a kid.” 

“These aren’t kids, man. They’re monsters.” Horacio reiterated. “If you can’t stomach it, I’ll take out the little monsters and you can have Mommy and Daddy...if you think you can handle ‘em.” He smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Screw you, H. I was hunting long before you packed yer first salt round. I can handle ‘em _IF_ they exist.” Questioning his hunting prowess was as bad as saying K.J. had a small dick. He didn’t. Not by a long shot. 

Horacio knew the dig would get K.J. on board. Raising his hands in mock surrender, he looked apologetic; sort of. “Okay, okay. Yer right. _If_ they exist.” 

K.J. eyed Horacio. He had the distinct feeling he’d just been had. After another minute, he huffed. “Fine. Let’s go.”

[ ](https://imgur.com/tadqp4L)

After walking for a couple hours, Naythin finally reached what was left of the town. Some of the houses were boarded up and looked as if they’d been abandoned a lot longer than they had been. Others, well, it was damn creepy. They looked like someone had been mowing the lawns and doing upkeep on the houses. They were clean, yards free of weeds. It was damn unsettling. At least he’d have his pick of places to squat for a few hours to get some sleep.

Sure, the place was a state park now and he knew that was why some of the houses looked the way they did. It still didn’t mean it made it any less creepy. 

It was oddly quiet. No bugs or other creatures of the night making themselves known. The only other sound he’d heard was an eerie howl about an hour ago. Naythin chalked it up to a lone coyote or stray dog. It had made the short hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “Damn dogs.” 

Shaking his head, he made his way along the back of a few houses before it opened up to a parking lot next to a church of all places. “Well, hallowed ground is about as safe a place as you can get.” The sound of his own voice startled him. Naythin looked around quickly making sure no one else heard him. _Get your shit together, Emerson._ He could hear Dean’s voice berating him for being sloppy. The only time Dean called him Emerson was when Naythin had screwed up or Dean was pissed at him. 

Making his way to the back of the church, he picked the lock on the door and quickly slipped inside. Closing the door as quietly as possible, he locked it again and pulled out a small flashlight from a side pocket on his pack. Clicking the flashlight on, he put it between his teeth before shouldering the pack and shoving both arms in the straps. 

Once he had the pack situated, Naythin pulled his handgun from the small of his back, clicked off the safety and held the flashlight next to the barrel of the gun. He needed to secure the building to make sure it was safe before making camp.

It only took him a few minutes to clear the back offices, kitchen and all the closets. Why did churches have so many damn closets? As he made his way into the main part of the church, he turned off the flashlight and tucked it in his back pocket. With all the floor to ceiling stained glass windows along both outside walls, there was plenty of light from the moon to make his way around without tripping over anything. 

As he reached the middle of the aisle, Naythin heard two male voices coming from his left. “Shit!” Dropping to the floor, he quickly belly crawled under the nearest set of pews. Swinging around so he could see the men as they walked slowly along the outside of the church. 

“I’m tellin’ ya, I saw a light comin’ from inside the church.” Pete hissed softly as he shined his flashlight over each window. 

Rolling his eyes, Dave grabbed his partner by the sleeve as he continued along the building toward the back. “Right. Come on. There’s nothin’ here.” 

Naythin watched the two men as they rounded the corner of the building until they were out of sight. Sitting up, he quickly shucked his pack, laid back down on the floor and quickly belly crawled to the end of the row. Crouching next to the pew, he quickly controlled his breathing so he could hear if the men entered the building. He had no way if the front door even opened to escape through. 

He really didn’t want to go against Barney and Andy the rent a cops. There hadn’t been anything in his intel to indicate night guards of any kind. He was going to chew Bobby a new one. Yeah, okay...he was a big boy and could do his own research but...there’s always a but...Bobby could have included this one tidbit of intel with what he sent him. 

“I’m tellin’ ya, someone’s inside.” Pete grabbed the door knob on the back door and gave it a hard turn expecting it to pop open. When it didn’t, he lost his balance and tumbled to the side landing hard against the railing that led to the basement. “Shit! Goddamnit!” Rubbing at his hip, he looked over at Dave who was trying very unsuccessfully to not laugh. 

“A ballerina dancer, you are definitely not. Y’alright?” Clearing his throat, he reached for Pete who slapped his offered hand away. Stepping back, he raised his hands in surrender.

Brushing the invisible dirt off his uniform, Pete glared at Dave. “Fine, it’s locked. Let’s go.” Turning on his heel, he walked around the offending wrought iron railing and headed for the parking lot on the other side of the building. 

Naythin didn’t move, Hell, he barely breathed as he strained his ears to hear what the men were saying. The sound of the door knob being turned roughly echoed throughout the empty church. “Shit...shit...shit.” He mumbled to himself as he slowly moved his hand to the knife hanging from his belt. It was silent and deadly. Though Naythin would have to get damn close to take either or both men out. He had no idea if they were armed. That missing piece of the puzzle made him very cautious. 

After what seemed like hours of laying on the dirty wood floor, Naythin finally eased himself back to the center aisle. Crouching at the end of the pew, he held his breath and listened carefully. His lungs burned and his brain screamed for him to take a damn breath already but, Naythin waited. He waited until his eyes started to water and his body trembled. Only then did he exhale and quickly take in a breath. Not enough to fill his lungs. Just enough to keep from passing out as he waited another minute. Once he was satisfied no one was coming back, he quickly got to his feet and headed for the front door. 

As he crossed under the archway, Naythin stopped when he saw the holy water font. Sighing, he shrugged his pack off and unzipped one of the small outer pouches. “Gotta take advantage of every opportunity to stock up.” Pulling out a small silver flask embellished with an ornate cross, Naythin unscrewed the cap and pushed the flask into the water watching as the bubbles broke the surface. 

Glancing up at the ceiling while the flasked filled, he reached for his wallet with his free hand and yanked it out of his back pocket. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He wasn’t religious by any means and didn’t believe in God but, Naythin wasn’t raised a mannerless, disrespectful heathen. Not that being a heathen was bad as long as you went about it the right way.

After the bubbles had stopped and the flask was full, he put it back in his pack and took a ten dollar bill out of his wallet, folded it and slipped it into the wooden donation box that hung from the wall near the font. Even though he wasn’t with him, Naythin could picture Dean rolling his eyes at the gesture. _Shuddup._

Shouldering his pack, he crossed the open foyer to the double front door and, as quietly as he could, unlocked one side and gently pushed it open a crack. The creak and scrape of metal against metal had him holding his breath and listening for the two guards to come back. When he was sure the coast was clear, he shoved the door open just enough to squeeze through, closed it and bolted across the side yard away from the last known direction he heard the two guards.

Naythin didn’t stop until he was a good four blocks away. He ended up deeper inside the park where the tourists didn’t go or weren’t allowed. One way or the other, he didn’t care. Picking the nastiest looking boarded up house that had an unattached garage to set up camp in for the night, he quickly laid out salt lines and tossed hex bags in each corner.

[ ](https://imgur.com/tadqp4L)

Standing on the side of the road, Horatio tried not to puke. The smell of blood and other...bits...was nearly overpowering. “That’s gross.” He mumbled softly. His voice sounded more nasal than usual. Breathing through his mouth tended to do that.

Without looking away from the back end of the wrecked car, K.J. handed H a small blue colored jar. “Here. Put some Vicks under and in yer nose. It’ll help.”

Taking the jar, Horatio slathered a decent amount under and in each nostril like K.J. instructed. Screwing the cap back on, he took an experimental sniff and sighed with relief. “Thanks man.” He handed the jar back and slowly panned his flashlight over what he could see of the wreckage. “I guess we’re goin’ down there. Maybe we should call the cops instead. It’s jus’ a car in a ditch.”

K.J. scoffed. “Since when, in all the years we’ve known each other, is it _jus’ a car in a ditch_?” 

“Yeah, ya got a point. Fuck my life.” Horatio bitched as he slowly made his way down the embankment. He could hear K.J. following close behind. 

It didn’t matter how much ugly and disgusting things they’d seen, killed, smelled...tasted...in their job getting monster gunk in their mouths was a job hazard, the smell of human blood and whatever else was in the car made Horatio gag. K.J. was having a hard time keeping his dinner where it belonged as he neared the driver’s side door. 

“Jesus H. Christ. That’s a lot of blood.” K.J. groaned past his fingers as they covered his mouth.

Blood was smeared on the spiderwebbed windshield on the drivers side. It covered the seat, dripped off the steering wheel and down both the inside and outside of the door. Granted, most of it was coagulated but still. The visual was enough to have his stomach rolling. He didn’t have to look at the passenger side to know it wasn’t much better. 

Horatio used his foot to kick the passenger side door open fully. “Good lord.” Covering his mouth with a bandanna and keeping his free hand behind his back because God only knew what was mixed in with all the blood.

“Dude...shine yer flashlight over here.” Squinting in the darkness, Horatio tried to figure out what the marks on the edge of the dash were. He jumped back when the area was suddenly flooded with a bright white light.

“Are you fuckin’ tryin’ t’give me a heart attack!” He bitched as he covered his heart with his free hand.

Scoffing, K.J. shined the light in H’s face. “You told me to use my flashlight dickwad!”

As the two bickered back and forth, they were oblivious to the fact that they were being watched. Twenty yards into the thick woods, a pair of red eyes glowed in the dark. A soft growl rumbled in the beasts chest as it watched the men poking around in the wrecked car. The beast's hunger was satiated; for now. There was always room for seconds...and thirds. For now, the beast would keep an eye on the humans. Technically, they were in its territory and fair game. If they ventured deeper into its home, the beast would kill them...for sport. It had been too long since it had come into contact with this many humans in its territory. The beast was less than pleased. 

Bloody lips pulled back to reveal jagged fangs. Red tinged saliva dropped from its lower jaw as the beast continued to growl in agitation. The humans weren’t leaving. They were too close to its food. Hell, they were its preferred food source. Man had created the beast. Made into a perverse version of what it once was; what they once were. It was only fitting that it had turned on its creators...destroyed them, consumed them and continued to do so today. 

Raking its claws against the bark of the tree, the beast snarled loudly. The sound echoing through the forest in warning.

Standing up straight, K.J. shined his flashlight into the woods. He’d heard...something coming from their left. Squinting his eyes, he calmed his breathing as he continued to scan the area.

“What is it?” Horatio stopped screwing around when K.J. stood up and went silent. His grip on the door frame tightened, his knuckles turning white from the strain. “K.J….now is not the time to go mute on me, my man.” The hair on the back of H’s neck stood on end. They were being watched. He could feel it. 

Shaking his head, K.J. lowered his flashlight. “Nothin’. I didn’t see nothin’.” He turned his attention back to the inside of the car. “It was nothin’. What ya got?” He asked, trying to refocus on what he could see right in front of them.

Aside from gallons of blood and other bits that should be _inside_ the human body, K.J. banged against the roof to get Horatio’s attention. “HEY!” When Horatio startled and finally ducked under the roof and looked at him, K.J. indicated to the long scratch marks on the dash. “What did you find?” He’d learned a long time ago how to multitask. One ear trained on the inky black woods. The edge just a few feet from where he stood and the other on H.

Clearing his throat, Horatio pointed to the long, jagged and most definitely bloody scratch marks. Near the end of the dash, Horatio pointed to a fingernail that was embedded in the leather. “She didn’t go easy.” Using his own flashlight, he checked the back of the seat and found a few scratches there. Turning, he shined the light on the broken window and found several more fingernails in the edge of the door frame. 

Taking a step back, he checked the ground. “Uh, K.J., take a look at this.”

Oh, he didn’t like the sound of that. Nope. Not one damn bit. 

Making his way around the back of the car, K.J. stopped next to Horatio. “What?” He followed H’s line of sight to the ground near the front tire. Even in the overgrown grass and weeds, K.J. could make out drag marks that led from the car to and disappeared into the woods. “Well shit, shit and triple shit.” 

“Ya think she’s still alive?” Horatio asked quietly. The light of his flashlight barely penetrated a few feet into the thick woods.

Sighing heavily, K.J. stared into the woods. “If she is, she won’t be for long.”


End file.
